


Tell A King By His Kiss

by ineptshieldmaid



Category: Prince Caspian- movieverse. (That means these are not my usual characters and I cannot be held for
Genre: Incest, M/M, but i abdicate responsibility for deciding on a rating for incestuous kissing threesomes, no more than kissing, pevensie angst, royal responsibility angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-15
Updated: 2008-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-19 21:52:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5982084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineptshieldmaid/pseuds/ineptshieldmaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Edmund, Peter, Caspian, and a peculiar sort of testing process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell A King By His Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Most of this first aired as commentfic for [](http://lassiterfics.livejournal.com/profile)[lassiterfics](http://lassiterfics.livejournal.com/)  and [](http://bedlamsbard.livejournal.com/profile)[bedlamsbard](http://bedlamsbard.livejournal.com/) . It then lurked on my DW for years, because apparently when I did my original AO3 uploads in 2010ish I didn't want to own up to it. I no longer have a sense of shame, so....
> 
> On the one hand, it's not great work. On the other hand, it does manage to encapsulate in two or three of its lines exactly what I was doing with Narnia slash. 
> 
> I don't use archive warnings for Narnia fic because the 'underage' tag [just doesn't work in this context](http://ineptshieldmaid.dreamwidth.org/189551.html). I undertook to warn for power disparity, and, yeah, there is a wee bit of that here - Caspian is adoring and the boys are testing him, but I think it comes out in Caspian's favour in the end.
> 
> Additionally, in the case of uploading this fic eight years after first writing it, I cannot be bothered deciding what rating to give it. I originally gave it an M, back when I used Australian movie ratings, because yeah, anything with incestuous teenage homoerotic kissing would get at LEAST that from the ACMA, but fandom standard has shifted away from comparing-to-movies now, and I have no idea what fandoms with teenage 'cest ships now set their standards as.

    The hour was late, but Caspian noted with relief that there was a light under Edmund's door. He felt sure that Edmund- who had been nothing but patient with Caspian's host of questions so far- would not mind a visitor, even so late at night. And besides, he needed to seek out Edmund's advice on the social customs of the Talking Beasts. What titles should he award to his generals? To what degree could the Beasts be integrated into Telmarine Narnia? Ought Beasts and Men be subject to the same laws?  
    And, truth be told, Caspian wanted company. Someone his own age or thereabouts, and someone who wasn't ranged against him on the battlefield merely days ago.  
    He knocked, and pushed the door open as soon as he heard a sound within. The fire was burning low and the room shadowy but warm. And- oh, King Edmund was not alone. Caspian backed up toward the door, apologising as he went.  
    Edmund, who was sitting tailor-fashion on the rug before the fire, made a gesture for Caspian to come forward.  
    'Did you need something, Caspian?' That was Peter, sitting close behind Edmund, leaning back on his arms for support.  
    'Sit down,' Edmund said, with a smile. 'Pull up a piece of rug.'  
    Caspian peered at the rug and must have been looking as perplexed as he felt, because Peter chuckled.  
    'He means sit on the rug, Caspian. Like pull up a chair.' This didn't help, but Caspian sat anyway.  
    'You wanted me,' Edmund prompted.  
    'Well, I was wondering about the Talking Beasts.'  
    'Hmm?'  
    'What's the difference in rank between the Chief Mole and the head of the Mice? If no one listens to the Bulgy Bears, why are they so high in rank? Is there a leader of the dryads? Should I make Glenstorm an Earl, or a Duke? Do the Talking Horses answer to the Centaurs or vice-verse? What am I to do with Giant Wimbleweather?'  
    Edmund was smiling, a litttle, but Peter was watching him without showing any sign of feeling at all.  
    'Here, drink,' Edmund said, producing a goblet which had been sitting on the floor between himself and his brother.  Caspian drank, perhaps a little too hastily.  
    'Everyone's explaining things all day long,' he said, and caught a plaintive note in his voice. 'And none of it makes sense, and none of them really think I'm any good.' Including you, he thought, at Peter. Not that Peter had been being deliberately antagonistic of late. He hadn't been being anything, and Caspian thought he could have made his support a little more public, a little better heard.  
    'And so you want me to explain more things?' Edmund leant back against his brother, who wrapped one arm automatically around his chest. 'Or explain them better?'  
    Caspian stared down at the empty goblet.  
    'You don't talk to me like I'm an idiot,' he said slowly. 'Or like you're afraid of me.'  
    'That's because he's not,' Peter put in, his eyes half-lidded in the firelight. 'And nor are you, if that helps.'  
    'Afraid of myself?'  
    'Some people are.'  
    'What have I to fear from myself?'  
    Neither brother answered him. Edmund merely tucked his head into Peter's shoulder and they were both watching him like cats watching mice.  
    'I- I should go.'  
    'Come here,' Peter said, instead, extending the hand not tucked around Edmund's middle. Caspian went, and let Peter pull him down until he was kneeling awkwardly in the triangle between the two boys' legs. Peter rested his hand on Caspian's knee, and Caspian realised suddenly that it was the first time someone had touched him outside of a dance or a formal greeting- the first time since the battle ended, since he and Edmund had slumped against each other and Peter had found them and slid down beside them and they had all sat and tried not to think about what had just happened.  
    Do you want to be King?' Edmund's eyes, under lowered lids, were almost curious.  
    Peter was watching him. Caspian swallowed.  
    'I- I want Narnia to prosper,' he said, instead of answering.  
    'But do you want to be king.' This was Peter, this time. His hand was still resting on Caspian's knee, but there was tension in the knuckles.  
    'I'm the best man for the job, if that's what you mean,' Caspian said at last. Peter raised one eyebrow, half-challenging, but Caspian thought he saw a flicker of approval in Edmund's eyes.  
    'What job is that?' said Edmund, and  
    'What makes you a good king, then?' said Peter.  
    Caspian bit his lip, thinking.  
    'The Talking Beasts like you,' Peter observed.  
    'You are the rightful heir to the Telmarine throne,' Edmund put in.  
    'Neither of them like me,' Caspian said at last. 'Not all that much. But they both need me, Men and Beasts. I have to prove myself to both of them, and I'll make sure they know that.'  
    There was silence, and then Edmund nodded once, a sharp token of approval. Peter sat up straighter, forcing Edmund to do the same, and brought his hand up to trace the line of Caspian's jaw for a moment.  
    'He'll do, Ed,' Peter said, almost under his breath, and curled his hand at the back of Caspian's neck.  
    'He'll do well, Pete.' Edmund held Caspian's gaze solemnly for a moment, and then turned to look back at Peter. 'He'll live here and die here, and that's all we can ask.'  
    'I hope you deserve it,' Peter's fingers tightened in Caspian's hair, pulling him closer.'I don't think you've any idea what you have here.'  
    Perhaps Caspian moved forward. Perhaps Edmund leaned in to kiss him, bringing his hand up to Caspian's forehead in something like benediction, his lips closing over Caspian's a moment later. Or perhaps it was Peter's hand behind Caspian's head, nudging him forward against Edmund's mouth. It didn't matter: Edmund's fingers were tangled in the hair at his temple, and Peter was breathing close and warm on his cheek, and Caspian was wrapped in their arms.

    Peter pulled Caspian in closer to them, his hand wrapped in Caspian's hair. His breath caught in his throat as Edmund's lips closed over Caspian's, watched the wariness in Caspian's eyes give way to awe and then desire. Caspian looked up, met Peter's gaze. Oh. He'd wanted this. The Telmarine scrap actually wanted this, Peter hadn't been mistaking the glimmer in Caspian's eyes at all. He wondered if it was Edmund Caspian really wanted, or himself, and then brushed the thought away. Caspian could have the both of them, or neither, and would he have the balls to go through with it?  
    Never taking his eyes from Peter's, Caspian pressed into Edmund's mouth (Edmund's soft, familiar mouth). Peter felt Edmund tense against him, saw the flick of Caspian's tongue along Edmund's lips as Edmund drew back.  
    'He'll do, Pete,' Edmund said, a little raggedly. Peter wondered what Edmund thought you could learn from kissing a man, wondered if he could read the fate of kingdoms in lips and breath and tongues.  
    Peter knew that all he needed to learn from kisses and touch had been learned years- lifetimes- ago. He cupped Edmund's cheek with his hand and with his thumb traced Edmund's lips, still wet with Casian's kiss.  
    'If you say so, Edmund,' he breathed. _Whatever you want, brother_.  
    Edmund wrapped his free hand around the back of Peter's neck, and pulled him forward into a tangle of lips and teeth. Edmund still had one hand against Caspian's chest, but Peter dropped his hand from Caspian's neck and brought both around to grasp his brother tight, pull his mouth closer against his own, messy and desperate. They were so _young_. There used to be a scar, right here on Edmund's lip, and calluses on his hands, and Peter hardly felt the same man anymore.  
    Edmund tasted just the same.

    Edmund felt Caspian lean back, and wondered for a moment if he had completely disgusted the young king. Without taking his eyes from Peter (and how could he, with his brothers hands wrapped around his face and his brothers lips on his, and Peter's tongue, oh...), Edmund fumbled for Caspian's hand. He squeezed Caspian's fingers and hoped Caspian understood. Peter shivered against him and Edmund bit down on Peter's lip, fisted his fingers tight in Peter's hair. _You left me, you left me alone, you grew young without me. You left me to grow young by your side without you_.  
    At length Peter's grip loosened and his kisses grew softer. Edmund pulled back, tugged on Caspian's hand to bring him closer in to them again. Caspian's eyes were wide, confused and a little afraid, but Edmund could feel Caspian's cock pressing hard against his leg. Well, well, Caspian liked watching, did he?  
    Edmund held Peter's face steady, glancing from Caspian to his brother and back again.  
    'You can't tell a king by a kiss,' he said. His voice was cold, and he hated to hear it, but he knew no no kind way to say it. He leaned forward and sucked gently on Peter's lower lip, eliciting a soft sort of whimper. 'A kiss is a kiss. Nothing more.'  
    And then Caspian's hand was between them, pulling Peter up, turning Peter's face toward him, something hard and fierce in his eyes.  
    'I am King enough for Aslan,' Caspian said, slow and clear, 'and I will be King enough for Narnia. You have my word, my honour, my life. I will never leave, and I will be enough' And lacing the fingers of his free hand through Edmund's, he pulled Peter close, and kissed him. Their mouths were so close, close enough that Edmund could see their lips meet, see the tiny twitches of movement and feel their breath on his own face. He tangled his fingers in Peter's hair and leant in to kiss Caspian's neck, and thought that Susan would definitely disapprove.  



End file.
